a box,
so small my limbs are tangled and tied and bent in all directions
to fit me in.
i want to speak up, to scream and say something
but i am crushing my own lungs to the point where i can't even form a
whisper.

i love them all
i love them all
i love them all
but this small box can only fit one.

i beg to be bought a new one so we may all hold hands
but the only thing i am holding is a beating heart and in order to change i must
crush it between my fingers and lap up the blood that
runs down my arm.

i have always been clumsy so loving someone
who is made of glass is a challenge i am not yet prepared for.
yet here i am, and here i want to be.